Chapter 8: Contraband
"Hey," Jennifer said, propped up on her pillow and looking at Rhys. The bedsheet had slipped away, revealing her pale skin, which seemed to glow with a delicate, dewy radiance in the morning sun.
"Hey," Rhys replied, rolling onto his side to face her. He thought for a moment, then narrowed his eyes and asked, "Why me?"
"I like you. That's enough," Jennifer said with a giggle, tracing a finger across his chest.
They spent a little more time wrapped up in each other.
"I have to go, Jennifer," Rhys said, beginning to search for his clothes on the bed and the floor. He gathered Jennifer's clothes and tossed them onto the bed. "Our instructor is extremely strict. If I'm late, he'll be sure to torture me."
Jennifer didn't move, simply resting her head on her hand as she watched Rhys hastily pull on his rumpled uniform.
"But, I'll come back often," Rhys said, fastening the last button. He walked to the side of the bed, leaned down, and cupped her long, pale neck with one hand, giving her a deep kiss.
Just as he was about to stand up, two slender arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him back down. Jennifer lifted her upper body off the bed and pressed her red lips fiercely against his. After a long moment, she broke the kiss and smiled at him. "You'd better not forget me, or I'll kill you."
"Of course. How could I ever forget you?" Rhys said, then turned to leave.
As he opened the door, Jennifer's voice called out from behind him, "You'd better believe I'm serious!"
"Wait!" Suddenly, Jennifer leaped out of bed, completely naked, and wrapped the bedsheet around her stunning figure. She grabbed several cans from a nearby cabinet and stuffed them into a cloth bag.
"Take these. They'll come in handy."
Rhys's first instinct upon seeing the cans was to refuse, but seeing the look of genuine concern in Jennifer's eyes, he had no choice but to smile. "Alright, I'll take them. Goodbye!"
The door clicked shut with a 'thump'. Jennifer shouted after him, "I will seriously kill you if you dare forget me, you bastard!"
But the bastard was already hurrying back to the barracks.
"Oh, look who it is! Our very own Paris has returned!" Tipper shouted as Rhys walked into the barracks.
"And how did the beautiful goddess Helen pleasure our prince last night?" White chimed in.
At that moment, Rhys couldn't help but admire Jennifer's foresight. He pulled the cans from the bag and tossed them to White and Tipper. "Here. This is your hush money. Don't go blabbing about this all over camp."
"Hey, Cobb, you get one too," Rhys said, throwing a can to Cobb.
Cobb shook it, then let out a cry of surprise. "Canned fish! This is great! I love you, Parks! Do you know this is my favorite?" Cobb completely forgot about his grievance with Rhys from the other night. The food in the camp mess hall was rarely appetizing, so the soldiers cherished any chance to buy tasty canned goods in town.
"Mine's not bad either!" White exclaimed happily.
"This is delicious! Thanks!" Tipper said, already digging into his can. "Thank that beautiful goddess for me. I hope you get to spend every night with her. Is this your payment, Parks?"
"Payment?" Rhys paused, then understood. "Damn it, can't even a can of food shut your mouth?"
The men burst out laughing.
"Where are Luz and More?" Rhys asked.
"God knows. They were gone first thing this morning," Cobb replied between mouthfuls.
Rhys hefted the cloth bag. "There are two left, but they're peaches. Hope they like them. I'll hold onto them until they get back."
"Canned peaches? Parks, isn't that your most painful memory?" White interjected.
"This is just like the garbage they serve in the regular Army. It seems the good stuff is always reserved for those of us who are prepared," Cobb said, forking a piece of fish out of the can and quickly stuffing it in his mouth.
Just then, the bugle call for formation sounded outside.
"Second Platoon, Easy Company! You have two minutes to change into your training gear and assemble for morning PT!" Lieutenant Winters stood at the front of the platoon, giving the order.
"Remember, I want the morning exercises to be perfectly synchronized, just as I always demand," Lieutenant Sobel said, standing in front of Winters and lowering his voice. "Colonel Sink will be here to inspect us shortly. You know that we are supposed to be the best company in the 506th. You will not embarrass me. Understood?"
"Yes, Lieutenant!" Winters stood at perfect attention.
"Go on, then. Lead the men well," Sobel nodded, gesturing for Winters to go change.
Colonel Sink arrived early. Just as Winters began leading the men through their exercises, the Colonel was already there. He didn't go to see Sobel immediately, instead choosing to walk around the Easy Company area.
Under Sobel's command, Easy Company's daily training was indeed excellent. Even the demanding Colonel Sink couldn't help but nod in approval, giving Sobel high praise. But today, Sink was here for more than just an inspection; he had already drafted the paperwork for Sobel's promotion. He had come specifically to promote him.
Colonel Sink eventually stopped beside the Easy Company formation as they were doing their exercises. When they finished, he walked up to Winters and asked, "Lieutenant, how many times has this company practiced this drill?"
"Three times, Colonel," Winters replied.
"Very good," Colonel Sink nodded, saying nothing more. He turned and walked toward the Easy Company command post.
Inside the company CP, Lieutenant Sobel had been silently practicing for this moment. He knew that today's visit from Colonel Sink was more than a simple inspection. Rumors of his promotion had been circulating, and it seemed today was the day. He rehearsed how to speak to the Colonel, aiming for a tone that was both respectful and dignified.
"Easy Company is the best performing in the Second Battalion," Colonel Sink said as he removed the single silver bar from Sobel's collar. He then personally pinned the two silver bars signifying the rank of Captain in its place. "I believe that is all thanks to you. Congratulations, Captain Sobel."
Sobel stood ramrod straight. His face was solemn, but he couldn't hide the triumphant glint in his eyes.
"Thank you, sir!" Sobel's reply was full-throated and confident.
Just then, Sink looked out the window at Winters, who was still training the company. A smile touched his lips. "Is that Lieutenant Winters? The one leading the drill?"
Sobel turned his head in surprise, following Sink's gaze. He nodded. "Yes, sir."
Sink smiled and nodded. "He is a fine soldier." He then took out a single silver bar and held it out to Sobel. "I was going to present this to him today, but I'll let you do it. I'm sure he would find it a great honor coming from you."
Sobel took the silver bar, his heart stinging as if stung by a bee. But he had no choice but to put on a show of enthusiasm. He nodded and said, "Of course, sir. He will be proud of your decision."
It was like finding a dead fly in a delicious bowl of soup; the flavor was suddenly no longer as perfect as he had imagined.
'Winters! Winters!' Sobel silently repeated the name. He then summoned all of Easy Company's staff officers, including Lewis Nixon, along with Winters, to the Second Platoon's main barracks.
"What are today's orders?" Winters asked, reporting to Sobel.
Sobel glanced at him, his face dark. "An inspection of the soldiers' personal articles."
The order felt forced. There had never been such an inspection before, and it wasn't a regimental requirement. A soldier's personal belongings were considered private property and couldn't be searched without a military order.
"Take a look at all of this," Sobel said, not waiting for Winters to speak. He began to rummage through the soldiers' footlockers.
"Pornography. Contraband." Sobel pulled out a magazine.
"Non-regulation clothing. Contraband." Sobel held up a colorful necktie for Winters to see.
"This man has two hundred prophylactic kits (condoms) in his footlocker. How in the name of God was he gonna have the strength to fight the war?" Sobel tossed the box on the floor. He then picked up a stack of letters. "Where does Private Tipper find the time to read all these letters?" He casually tore one open.
Winters felt he had to say something. "Captain, are personal letters considered contraband?"
Sobel didn't even look at him. He held the pink stationery to his nose and sniffed it. "These men are not paratroopers yet, Lieutenant. They are not entitled to personal articles."
He then took one of the two cans his aide had discovered. He held it up in front of Winters, Nixon, and the other officers, his expression grim. "What is this?"
He shook it in his hand, his eyes severe as he stared at the men before him. "Who wants to answer that?"